The Burglary Job
by Myrielle
Summary: A drunken Vex sends the Dragonborn on a rather special burglary assignment that involves a tall, dark and handsome Justiciar and a pair of smalls.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except for my OC; all else belongs to Bethesda. No profit made from this either.

Summary: A drunken Vex sends the Dragonborn on a rather special burglary assignment that involves a tall, dark and handsome Justiciar and a pair of smalls.

_A/N: I don't know where this is coming from but I'll write anything if the Muse screams it must be so and she's not letting me do work either. Official warning: This is pure unadulterated fluff lime/lemon with a poor pretence at plot. Read at your own risk. Set in the same universe as 'Mirrormere'. The rating will rise, eventually.  
_

**The Burglary Job**

**I.  
**

She hated Markarth. Every time she had to set foot in the city she muttered the same sentence under her breath. "I hate this place," Aerindis, or Rinn to her thieving brethren, whispered as she climbed the seemingly endless staircases and navigated the twists and turns of the city of blood and silver. There were no trees, no greenery, simply waterfalls whose thunder invaded every corner and a sea of monotonous cold grey and dull bronze that met the eye everywhere one turned. Not to mention The Warrens, where the poor and sick were left to rot and to their own devices in the dark. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' That had to be Jarl Igmund's policy when it came to his people.

The guards did not bat an eyelid when she pushed open the doors to Understone Keep. After all, this wasn't the first time they had seen the distinct gleaming black armour that she wore. They would not know that she was one of Nocturnal's Nightingale's though. The hood obscured her entire face and turned her eyes into inscrutable, gleaming pinpoints that had the wonderful effect of unnerving most of the people she met.

It was going to get tricky from here. There never seemed to be a moment when he was not on patrol. 'Why oh why did you even agree to this?' Rinn wanted to kick herself. It was too late for such thoughts and at the same time, she hated the way her stomach clenched and the way her knees almost quivered at the thought of seeing him again. It had been two months since he had helped her kill the Dark Brotherhood assassin stalking her. He'd saved her life actually.

And then there was that almost kiss. The fact that ultimately, nothing had happened still rankled in a way that she would vehemently deny. Rinn blinked, shook her head slightly as she sidled along the wall, well out of sight of the guards she knew would be posted just beyond the Mournful Throne. Movement to the right at the top of the stairs drew her attention. 'Speaking of the Mer himself,' she thought. She could practically hear Ondolemar's cultured tones in her head, correcting her omission of 'superiorly bred'. And as always, at his heels trotted the female Thalmor guard. Rinn told herself she wasn't jealous, that her heart had not sped up a tiny notch in spite of her efforts at controlling her reaction.

'You have a job to do,' she reminded herself sternly, moving in the shadows, somehow always finding a space of darkness large enough to hide her. Above, the gleaming Dwarven Centurion seemed to glare down at her. If Igmund had ever faced one in battle, he would not be so eager to decorate his keep with them. Then again, he was too busy kissing Thalmor ass to do anything else.

'You'd like to do the same yourself,' a sly voice interrupted. Heat bloomed on Rinn's cheeks.

'Shut up,' she scolded. But her inner voice was on a roll.

'Well, tell me you haven't spent the last fortnight thinking about that almost kiss. I do believe that in your head, it became more than that. A lot more. And that mouth was not the only thing you were kissing.'

Her face became so hot that Rinn felt tempted to press her cold hands against them to cool her skin down. 'So I have an active imagination. Arrest me.'

'Ooooh, now that is an interesting scenario. Don't we know the perfect man, or rather Altmer, for the job?'

Rinn wanted to bang her head against the stonewall until her inner voice fell unconscious. Unfortunately, that would put her out of action too. So while her inner voice gleefully articulated an outrageous and potentially offensive fantasy which involved chains and leather strips, and explored the potential uses of ice and fire spells ('It won't hurt, much. Besides, didn't that special book you stole from the Temple of Dibella say that pain could be pleasure?'), Rinn focused on counting the seconds it took for Ondolemar and his pet guard to walk back and forth across that narrow stretch of floor.

When he turned on his heel and began trekking back in the direction of the Jarl's room, Rinn sprang into action. Crouching low to the ground, she sprinted, keeping her body close to the walls as she scurried up the steps, eyes darting back and forth to ensure the way was clear. Even her inner voice shut up long enough in the middle of extolling the virtues of a table over a stone-bed to give a triumphant crow as she slipped around the corner and up the stairs which led to the Justiciar's private quarters.

Her hands trembled slightly as she proceeded to pick the lock, carefully twisting the slender pick and special knife, feeling the tumblers shift and finally give as the bolt slid back. Slipping inside, she shut the door behind her. For a moment, her eyes took in everything; she had dreamt about the room a few times since their last encounter and everything seemed to be the same. There were a few sealed letters and scrolls on his table, a bottle of Colovian brandy and an Elven dagger. His room was shorn of decorations; everything was utilitarian save for the extensive bookshelf that dominated most of one wall. 'He does so love to read,' she thought wistfully as her eyes ran quickly over the titles. He had an unusual amount of books focusing on Talos worship and although he had passed it off as necessary research to understand the enemy, she knew him better. He had helped her in spite of the fact that Elenwen probably wanted her head displayed on a pike outside the Thalmor Embassy. And a Justiciar who would rather choose to personally warn off a stubborn old Nord bard rather than turn him over to Thalmor inquisitors was not the average Mer.

'Definitely nothing average about Ondolemar,' her inner voice leered. 'Now, what was it we were here for again?'

'We are here for one pair and one pair only. I am not taking five.'

'Aw, come on. If we give one to sexy Vexie—'

'You know, Vex would dig you out of my head and kill you herself if she ever heard you call her that.'

'She won't. She needs you. You're the Guild Master in training and you restored the Paragon to the Guild. Thanks to you every chest they unlock contains priceless gems. You could flip Vex the bird and bring Brynjolf, Rune, Cynric, Dirge and Delvin to watch her bathe and she still wouldn't kill you. She might hurt you though, badly.'

'Shut up.'

'That line is getting old. Okay, fine. Maybe not five. After all, a Justiciar needs his smalls after all. It must be uncomfortable underneath all that fine black leather. Or maybe not. I bet it's soft. Soft and buttery to the touch, and so utterly smooth. Don't you want to find out?'

'I'm officially ignoring you. If you want to feel up the leading Justiciar in Skyrim, you'll have to find a way to do it yourself.'

'Hey, I'm your better half. You should be listening to me, not swimming in denial. Now, back to how many we're going to filch. Just take two. One for Vex and one for you on those nights when you can't sleep and you need to—'

Rinn smacked herself hard on the side of the head, more to disrupt the disturbing image that was forming rather than to silence the perverted ranting of her inner voice. "I swear, this is all the fault of the dragon soul," she muttered grimly. Life had never been the same after the Greybeards had shook the whole of Skyrim by roaring out that she was the Dovahkiin, waking the sleeping dragon inside her, and her inner voice had gotten a lot louder and chirpier after she had devoured Mirmulnir's soul.

After several seconds, she heard nothing but glorious silence and heaved a sigh of relief. Her inner voice had been knocked unconscious; truth be told, she had hit herself so hard that her palm stung and her head ached slightly. "Now, where to start?" That wardrobe next to the bed look just about the right place to begin her search.

If she really stopped to think about what she was doing, she was sure she would feel foolish and ashamed. Foolish because this was the most trivial item she had ever had to steal but she had never been so nervous before on any job. Ashamed because between Ondolemar and her lay a strange understanding and lingering attraction that managed to transcend the boundaries of race and political allegiance and here she was, rifling through his personal belongings because a drunken Vex had dared her to steal his smalls.

"_You know, you aren't fooling me," Vex slurred as she sipped the fiery brandy. "I know why you asked Vekel to bring in this stuff. You're sweet on that Justiciar and you miss him."_

"_I am not and I do not," Rinn denied a little too quickly and hotly. "Now give me my septims. I brought the jewelled goblet just like the client wanted. Do you have any other jobs?"_

_A sly, slow smile crept over Vex's face and Rinn had a sinking feeling. "Do this job and when you come back, I'll give you five lessons in lockpicking for free." _

_The Nord thief glared at the blond Imperial who continued to elegantly slurp her Colovian brandy. "And I'll put in a word with Bryn about that Guild Master title you want so badly." _

_If Vex was willing to do this much, there was obviously a huge catch somewhere. Rinn ground her teeth in silent frustration before making her choice. "I do this and you talk Delvin into persuading Brynjolf that I'm ready." _

_Vex hesitated at that. _

"_And I'll tell you where he stashed those naked portraits of you. You know, the ones he sketched when he saw you bathing." _

"_Done," the older woman snapped. "But if you don't succeed, this goes down as a failure in my books."_

"_I won't fail. I haven't botched a job so far, have I?"_

"_That remains to be seen. Now, about this job…."_

_Rinn listened to the details without twitching so much as a muscle. She was a picture of calm composure when she left the Flagon and went to her room. There, she stuffed the edge of her blanket into her mouth and let out a not so silenced scream of outrage. 'Damn Vex and her fetish! That does it, when I get back, I'm telling Brynjolf why his smalls keep disappearing.'_

And speaking of disappearing smalls… Rinn felt her frustration mount as she searched through the wardrobe. The bottom level consisted of Thalmor boots, each pair polished and buffed to mirror perfect shine. They were all arranged neatly, the tips aligned so exactly that Rinn would have laughed if she had more time to spare. The top two levels had neatly folded stacks of Justiciar attire, one for robes and shirts, the other for pants. She could not find any underwear.

'Maybe he doesn't wear any smalls.' The thought made her mouth dry and she felt heat streak low in her belly. 'Oh gods, I am perverted after all.' There was no hope for her because that didn't even come from her inner voice. "Impossible, there have to be some lying around somewhere," she huffed. She would search every inch of the room if she had to. Wasn't there a chest next to his bed?

Hurrying over to it, she shook out a few picks and selecting the sturdiest, inserted it into the lock along with her knife. Hastily, she twisted and the thin metal snapped, nicking her on the cheek. If not for the hood's protective leather, her skin would be sporting a red welt by now. "By the Nine," she swore softly, trying again. This lock was a nasty piece of work; she could feel the slender pick in her hand trembling as she probed gently. 'Probably a Master lock,' she surmised. 'Every thief's bane.' She would have to be patient, not exactly her strongest trait. Rinn grimaced as the second pick broke as well.

She was busily cursing Vex and swearing by Talos, and so focused on unlocking the chest that she never heard the silent booted feet that padded into the room, never noticed deep green eyes going wide at the sight of her on her knees beside the chest, did not see the flash of warm desire that was quickly smothered when Ondolemar smoothed his face into a stern mask of reproof.

She did hear the very audible click of the bolt being slid firmly back into place.

'Oh shit.' And irony of ironies, the tumblers of the locked chest chose to give way at that moment. Rinn had no time to savour her victory as she slowly, very slowly turned to see the stuff that her dreams were made of leaning against the locked doors of his chamber, pinning her with that emerald green gaze that always threatened to unravel her.

'Isn't he dreamy?' her inner voice sighed. 'Even if he looks pissed as hell.'

'I think he's going to arrest me, you moron.'

'That doesn't detract from the fact that he looks so good he should be Divine.'

'That's blasphemy.'

'I thought you told me that was being hypersexual. I'm telling you now, I save that only for Ondolemar so we aren't the loose strumpets that you think we are.'

'I didn't say I was the loose strumpet. I said you were!' Rinn gulped, aware that even as she argued with her inner voice, who would spring to life at the sight of the Justiciar, he was slowly stalking across the room towards her. For once, her inner voice was right. He did look pissed. After all, friends didn't rob from each other. Right? And what Vex did to Brynjolf was probably considered a special case.

"Aerindis," he said, the softness in his tone doing nothing to gentle the biting way he pronounced her name. "Why are you stealing from me and what have you taken?"

By the gods, she was not about to tell him that her potential promotion to Guild Master depended on whether she could get ahold of his smalls. That would be humiliating beyond measure.

"Umm… I'm sorry?" she said weakly, still on her knees.

"That is not what I asked for," he corrected sternly, coming to a stop next to her. She noticed the mace that he wore strapped to his side and it was with a pang that she realised he wasn't even going to draw it. She felt lower than a skeever.

"I know. I wasn't apologising for breaking in either." And with that, she sprang at him, tackling him hard at the knees and Ondolemar went down before he even realised what she was up to.

"Gua—" A leather clad palm slapped hard over his mouth, cutting off his cries. The other went over his nose, cutting off his air supply. Strong thighs wrapped themselves around his upper torso, pinning his arms tightly to his side and even though he thrashed and rolled, the black-haired thief clung to him like a barnacle to a rock. Up until this moment, Ondolemar had not believed himself to be in any danger.

"I was apologising for this," she whispered in his ear as black dots began eating away at his vision. Panicked, he struggled harder as fear kept him clinging to consciousness. "I won't hurt you. I just need you out of the way for the moment."

He was going to kill her. When he got his hands on her…if he lived through this…

After what seemed like an agonising eternity, his blond-tipped lashes finally fluttered shut and his body fell still. Rinn tried to slow her own harsh breathing and cautiously, unclamped her hands from around his face. When he did not struggle, she unlocked her legs, rolling him gently onto his side. Pushing off her hood, she lowered her ear to his nose and mouth and to her relief, realised that he was breathing again. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, brushing back his hair as she tucked and smoothed the blond strands back.

'Well, you can't possibly leave him there. When he wakes up he might be angry enough to give you to Elenwen in an ornate chest and wrapped with a big bow together with a note that says "Hurt her, please".'

'I'm sure you have a suggestion or two in mind,' Rinn thought wearily even as she slipped her arms beneath Ondolemar's and began dragging him towards the bed.

'Remember those leather strips I was telling you about?...'


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except for my OC; all else belongs to Bethesda. No profit made from this either.

Summary: A drunken Vex sends the Dragonborn on a rather special burglary assignment that involves a tall, dark and handsome Justiciar and a pair of smalls.

_A/N: Here's another chapter and the next will be 'M' for sure. I hope that warms the cockles of our Ondolemar-loving hearts. And yes, this is related to 'Mirrormere' but would come after that series of events. Thanks everyone for reviewing and feeding the Muse! It's really late and I've edited but if there are mistakes, I apologise in advance and will clean those up later._

**The Burglary Job**

**II.**

'Have you ever seen such a beautiful sight?' her inner voice cooed.

'Aren't you past asking rhetorical questions already?' Rinn mopped up a bead of sweat that trickled down her temple. In spite of his slender build, Ondolemar carried some serious weight and dragging all six feet and more of him onto the stone bed was no mean task. And then there was the small matter of tying him up so that he could not fry her alive with electricity. The stone bed lacked any kind of posts so she ended up binding his hands behind his back, ensuring that she double-knotted the strips and she did the same with his feet as well, securing them tightly at the knees and ankles. His mace she carefully removed and placed on the table next to the Elven dagger. She had cut a strip of cloth from his bedclothes and used that to blindfold him so that he would not witness the act of her stealing his underwear when she finally found where he had stashed it.

The only thing was that she could not bring herself to gag him. It seemed…disrespectful. "Of course it would, especially since you've practically hogtied the Mer in his own chamber, using leather strips you found in his drawers, and all because you need to steal his underwear," she muttered sarcastically. "It makes perfect sense." As much sense as this damned burglary job.

'Do you think he will yell? I bet he will. Loudly, over and over again. He looks like a shouter.'

Rinn buried her face in her hands briefly. It wasn't bad enough that she was saddled with a dragon soul; she just had to be born with an inner voice that would not shut up about Ondolemar. 'I swear, you are obsessed with him. If only there was a way I could leave you two alone in this room. But that would be cruel and unusual, for him anyway.'

'Hey, that makes two of us. I'm simply bringing your deepest darkest secrets to light. You know, the ones you keep repressing and shoving down into the dark basement of your soul? In other words, my place of residence. And it would only be cruel and unusual if he enjoys that kind of thing.'

'…. I need to stop giving you ideas.'

'Not going to happen. Not with the most handsome male in Skyrim tied up and blindfolded on a bed in front of you. And by the way, why are you still straddling him?'

Rinn jumped off Ondolemar as though the Mer were on fire.

'Damn. Why did I open my mouth?' the inner voice sulked.

Forget the gag, she obviously could not bring herself to do it. "How else to keep him quiet?" Desperately, she ran her eyes over the room, looking for something… a ruby red bottle glinted in the candlelight and Rinn snapped her fingers.

"A potion! Perfect." Fumbling for the pouch at her side, she practically ripped the lid open and emptied its contents onto the table. The travel pack, which she had left tied to Frost's saddle, held the larger bottles but the pouch contained tinier vials that were far more practical and which would not weigh her down in a battle. "I knew I had these somewhere," she smirked, picking one of two purple vials. "Sleeping Tree Sap." Only, this was special because it had a touch of distilled Skooma in it. It was not a sleeping potion but was guaranteed to keep Ondolemar drugged for at least an hour. Coupled with the blindfold, he probably would imagine it all to be a dream and by the time he came to his senses, his guards would be an angry shout away. "Perfect," Rinn repeated as she gently propped Ondolemar up against her shoulder, trying to ignore the unearthly golden sheen of his hair, the fact that he smelled wonderful, and the compact feel of his body beneath her hands. Prising open his mouth, she emptied the contents of the vial into it, taking care to sit him up so that he would not choke on the liquid. When she checked, every last bit had gone down but she held him for a few more minutes just to make sure that he would be fine.

'Mmhmm. You keep telling yourself that,' came the smug, teasing remark.

'You want me to put him down now?'

'No! I'll be good,' whined the inner voice. 'Geez, you are such a spoilsport.'

When she was sure that he was absolutely not in danger of choking, Rinn sighed and gave in to the urge to run a hand lightly through his hair. She loved its deep golden colour, and the fact that he wore his hair long down to his shoulders. Slipping off the silken tie he used to bind it, she laid him down gently, putting the only pillow on the bed beneath his head. The only decent thing to do was to make sure he suffered no more discomfort than she had already put him through.

'I think he would be more comfortable without those heavy robes on.'

'No! I already told you, there will be no stripping involved.'

'You didn't specify what you mean by 'no'. Is it 'no' completely or 'no' partially because I'm all for the partially bit. It's called compromise. You get some and I get some…'

Rinn allowed her inner voice to point the benefits of such an arrangement while she rifled through the chest. Thanks to a certain jewelled crown that was sitting pretty down in the Cistern next to Brynjolf's desk, which she had caught Delvin trying on one night in a drunken stupor, she found a small fortune in gems waiting for her. Unfortunately, the sight of two flawless diamonds, an amethyst and an emerald did little to satisfy her. She tossed aside an extremely heavy and large coin purse, lifted stacks of refined white paper and several fine bone writing brushes and it was only when she scraped the bottom of the chest that Rinn growled and slammed the lid shut. "What a bloody waste of time!"

'I totally agree. Why are we doing this when we have some perfectly good entertainment literally lying there waiting for us?'

'Oh my gods, you are seriously not suggesting I take advantage of Ondolemar when he's unconscious? You have the morals of Sanguine and the brains of Dirge. The man is out; not even Dibella herself could get a response now.'

The inner voice was about to respond when a slight shifting caused both of them to freeze.

"Aerindis?"

His voice was tentative, barely louder than a whisper. Usually she loved hearing him say her name. Everyone else called her Rinn, except him. It always seemed a little more special when he used the full version. This time though, it felt like a punch to the gut for completely different reasons. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" Rinn grabbed at the empty vial, peering at it as though it contained the answer. True enough, she had not gone colour-blind for it was a purple vial. It had to be Sleeping Tree Sa—Then it hit her. The vial had no small blue stones embellishing its sides. The one containing the Sap did.

'Oh shit. Oh damn. Oh no.' That last thought she spoke aloud.

"Aerindis, why have you blindfolded me? And why is the room so warm?"

'Nocturnal, you're the patron of thieves and the Prince of Luck. So how in Oblivion do I pick the wrong bottle at the wrong damned time?' Rinn suppressed the desire to howl and throw something against the wall. Instead, she shakily lifted the bottle to her nose and took a tentative sniff, hoping to disprove her worst suspicions. A thin floral scent spiced with a hint of something bitter wafted up her nostrils and for a moment, she felt a hint of giddiness as the smell went straight to her brain. Dropping the bottle, she pressed her fingers against her mouth, eyes zeroing in on the trussed up Justiciar who was…

'Is it just me or is he squirming?' Never had her inner voice sounded so tentative before.

'The drugs are quick.' Rinn swallowed audibly. Oh yes, he was squirming and she could see the reason why. It was making itself very noticeable, increasingly so actually in spite of the dark, thick leather of his pants. So that was what Angeline Morrad had meant when she had slyly said that there would be no way that Rinn's secret sweetheart would be able to resist her.

"_Just a few drops, my dear. I guarantee that your young man will confess his feelings."_

"_Angeline, thank you but no. It's complicated and perhaps for the best that neither of us pursues the subject."_

"_Just take it anyway. Humour an old woman. I paid some guards to fetch me a chip from the Lover Stone so that I could grind it up into this special concoction and it cost me a pretty sum. I just wanted to do something for you since you've been so good to me." _

And the old bat had squeezed out some tears which had immediately dried the moment Rinn caved like Calcelmo's knees did whenever Faleen walked by. 'Confess his feelings my arse,' Rinn thought furiously. 'This isn't a love potion. It's a—"

'Sex Potion!' The inner voice whooped enthusiastically. 'Who knew Angeline had it in her? Especially since she's been so maternal and gentle to us?'

'That's wrong. That is so wrong.'

'Mother knows best,' the inner voice sang mellifluously.

'Shut up!' Rinn would have clapped her hands over her ears but for the futility of such a gesture.

"Untie me now. I know you're here. I…" And then Ondolemar gritted his teeth and let out the tiniest of hisses he rolled onto his side, legs curled slightly up to his belly. "What have you done?" he demanded.

She could not tell if the husky edge to his voice was because of his current predicament or because of anger. Maybe a bit of both. Or a lot of both.

'I do believe Angeline said 'a few drops' but you've gone and poured the whole vial down his throat. And is it just me or have those pants gotten a lot tighter in the five minutes you've spent staring at it? I think you may need to wipe your chin.'

"I…It was an accident," she stammered.

The blindfolded Justiciar fell silent and for a moment, he stopped moving. Then he licked his lips and she realised he could taste the remnants of the potion. "You've drugged me," he whispered, sounding utterly appalled. "What manner of potion is this?"

'Really, Ondolemar? Do we have to spell it out to you? Can't you feel its effects? Can't we?' That last part ended on a rather plaintive note.

'Now is not the time for smart-ass quips,' Rinn scolded.

'Speaking of ass… No, no smacking—at least not me—Ow!' And like that, her inner voice fell silent again.

Massaging the side of her head, Rinn considered her options. There was a smaller chest at the other end of the room and a set of drawers by the bedside. Some distance would be good. "I'm afraid I can't untie you." She hurried over to the chest, her lockpicks out and ready. "And I gave you the wrong potion. I meant for you to sleep through this."

"What are you looking for? And I must insist that you stop at once. I will not cover for you this time. I have already…" He stopped abruptly, let out a shuddering breath and in spite of his best efforts, a moan slipped out between clenched teeth.

Somewhere at the other side of the room, there was the distinct crack of a lockpick, the pieces clinking on the cold stone as they fell to the floor.

"Shit, shit," Rinn cursed. Blood welled from the shallow cut and she sucked hard on her finger, wincing at the sharp metallic taste. Thank the Aedra and Daedra that her inner voice had been temporarily knocked unconscious. There was another low moan from the stone bed and Rinn attempted to stuff the Nightingale hood into her ears. The damned leather would not stay in. The room was bloody warm and she was pretty sure most of the heat was coming from the region of her body that hailed south and no matter what her inner voice said, she was not a pervert, she did not molest Justiciars under the duress of sex potions—

"Gods above, Aerindis, release me. I need to… I have to…" The sound of frantic scrabbling reached her ears and she could hear growls of frustration. "Damn you and your thief's knots!"

Against her better judgement, she turned around, stole a peek at him and deeply regretted it because she was quite sure her own smalls had combusted on the spot, along with her lady parts. There was a light flush and sheen of sweat on the handsome Mer's face and his mouth was slightly parted as he laboured to control his breathing. Occasionally he bit his lip to stifle the moans that managed to escape anyway. As he fought to free himself, twisting and writhing upon the hard stone in a way that Rinn found absolutely delicious and which threatened to resurrect her hypersexual inner voice, she couldn't help but zoom in on the obvious swell contained by his pants and when he thrust his hips, growling softly in a mix of frustration as he tried to relieve the arousal that tormented his body, Rinn thought she might have passed out for a moment. 'Just a moment,' she thought weakly, mustering all her will power to turn back to the chest. She was glad she was kneeling down. Her legs had all the strength and firmness of a melted sweet roll.

She had always boasted that no one could tie a better knot than a thief. 'And a fine knot you've made for yourself! And no looking! No more peeking.' Chanting that last phrase like a mantra under her breath, she took out another lockpick and tried again.

"It hurts," he pleaded in such deliciously thick low and husky tones that she had to literally hold on to the chest to prevent her feet from getting up and running in his direction. He sounded so tormented and he was practically begging. What was the harm in helping him find some relief—'No! You are better than that. Gods damn it but you are.' She could have wept for the fact that she had morals but Rinn was determined not to do anything she would bitterly regret. As it was, she was certain their friendship was over and it was enough to make her heart ache so fiercely she thought it might bleed through her ribs.

"Rinn, please. By the Eight…" More struggling, more ragged groans peppered with colourful curses about thieves that made even her blush.

The tumblers gave and she pushed the lid open so quickly and violently that she almost clipped her own chin. "Soon, I'll find someone to get you out as soon as I'm done," she called out, trying to ignore the obvious quiver in her voice.

The sound of metal hitting the ground had her spinning around sharply, glass dagger in hand but it was only the mace that had rolled from the table. Turning back, she dug through the chest frantically. More precious stones, some documents and a couple of maps that she could not read now to save her soul. No smalls. The lid of the chest had fell shut and to her, there seemed to be a ringing finality to it. There was only one option left to take and she was dreading it so much because a part of her was really looking forward to it as well. She would have to search Ondolemar because he was definitely wearing smalls. He had to be.

'I knew it would come to this,' crowed an irritatingly familiar voice. 'Well, what are you waiting for?'

No amount of washing was going to get her clean after this. Even if she had been dunked in the Cistern canal several times with Vekel's trash floating around her, she wouldn't feel as dirty as she did now. 'Maybe I am related to Sanguine after all. I always did think it was strange that he referred to himself as my Uncle…'

'Maybe I can keep my eyes closed or averted. I know my way around men's clothing.' Not that many but she would never admit it, not with Vex and Tonilia literally keeping notches on their bedposts.

'Rinn sweetie, the last time you saw them, those pants looked as though they might split at the front seams. I told you,' the inner voice said smugly, 'big hands, big feet and enormous d—'

She would have shut her inner voice up at that moment, if not for the fact that she realised that there were no more noises coming from the bed. Maybe Ondolemar had fallen asleep.

'More like passed out from sexual frustration.'

And then she heard something that made her heart plummet right to the base of her stomach before it jumped straight into her mouth. 'Uh oh, is that the sound of boots hitting the floor?'

'But that would mean…' Oh shit. Brynjolf had warned her about this and she had forgotten.

_Remember, Rinn. If you ever have to tie up a mage, you make sure you fold those hands into fists and strap the fingers down. The fingers are the conduits and focus points for a magic practitioner. You get the fingers and there'll be no nasty shocks._

Right now, the nasty shock was standing next to the bed, long blond hair dishevelled from the blindfold he had yanked off and a wicked looking Elven dagger in hand. Rinn's gaze flew to the table but she knew. 'Daedra damned Telekinesis spells!' she cursed and her mistakes came crashing down on her. It didn't matter that she had blindfolded him; this was Ondolemar who arranged his books according to height and in alphabetical order. The dagger had probably been sitting in the same spot ever since it came to be in this room. Even from behind the darkness of blindfolded eyes he would have known precisely where it was.

He looked like some avenging Dremora, towering, garbed in black and absolutely furious. He was shaking though, and there was a gingerness to his movements that marred his usual grace.

'Well geez, cut the Mer some slack. He's walking with a gigantic—'

'Will you stop obsessing with size?' Rinn screamed inwardly.

'Well, size matters,' the voice retorted. 'Especially since we're about to be royally fu—'

"Aerindis," he snarled.

That did it. Forget the smalls. Getting out with her body parts intact was far more important now. Freedom was only a few feet away.

Rinn sprang, leaping for the door. Seconds before she touched the handle, a wave of blazing amethyst that crackled and snaked like a live thing struck the metal and she felt the bolts snap with whip-like force against her arms. Only the enchanted leather saved her skin from frying but a searing heat remained and she could smell the faint scent of burning in the air.

Another bolt struck the door, forcing her to jump back from the now sizzling metal door. It happened so quickly that she barely had time to think. She did realise what he was up to though and if she had been a second faster, she would have eluded his grasp.

Fingers clamped on the back of her cape and the next thing she knew, she was being pinned to the floor, belly down. "You don't want to do this," she cried, scrabbling wildly at the floor, trying to find some purchase to throw him off even as she attempted to elbow him.

He tore off the hood and the slight sting on her scalp informed her that he had taken several strands of hair as well. Rinn only ceased struggling when she felt the sharp edge of the dagger at the back of her ear. "You really don't want to do this," she whispered. Cold from the stone floor seeped into her cheek and she could see the door, just beyond her reach.

He leaned over, hot breath lacing her ear and Rinn shivered. "Actually, I think I do," he drawled tauntingly. "Very much so." His free hand slid down to her waist, squeezing gently and Rinn's eyes widened. He was…

'Told you,' the inner voice piped up ecstatically. 'Royally fu—'

And her mind went completely blank as prim and proper Ondolemar, under the influence of Morrard's Sex Potion, groped her ass.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except for my OC; all else belongs to Bethesda. No profit made from this either.

Summary: A drunken Vex sends the Dragonborn on a rather special burglary assignment that involves a tall, dark and handsome Justiciar and a pair of smalls.

_A/N: This took forever but I started messing in the Kink Meme sandbox and look what popped up. What I don't understand is why my Muse won't pay my other Dragonborn a visit too. Anyway, I hope this will whet your appetite. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! The main course will be served shortly. _

**The Burglary Job**

**III.**

"I'm married!"

Rinn froze, her eyes went wide and she felt the hand groping the lower curves of her buttocks still. Then, before she could draw her next breath, she was flipped onto her back so fast that her head spun. Blinking, she took in the vision above her. Ondolemar's blond hair spilled down past his shoulders, glimmering softly in the light, pale and delicate in contrast with the angry green shards that his narrowed eyes had transformed into. The angular features of his face, which she had privately sighed over and deemed as the most handsome she had ever seen in Skyrim, suddenly seemed razor sharp and unforgivingly harsh. He looked positively ferocious. Rinn, who had surmised that gentlemanly Ondolemar—while a fierce warrior and a wily player of the political game—was essentially harmless with a humane core of empathy that he hid beneath the guise of an Aldmer zealot, was suddenly beginning to think twice about her assessment.

She would have shrunk away, pulled back if she could have. Except that there was a rather solid wall of stone pressed against her back. His grip on her forearms was bruising, even through the enchanted leather of the Nightingale armour. Earlier on, she had thought him heavy when she had dragged him across the room and heaved him up on the stone bed. Now, she knew had an even better idea of his weight because he proceeded to sit astride her while he leaned further down, putting increased pressure on her arms, so close that the tip of his nose was inches from hers. White teeth flashed from sensual lips curled in a half snarl. "What?"

Somewhere inside the recesses of her brain, Rinn felt her inner voice collapse into a blissful, hormone-induced coma. Where this particular Mer was concerned, a furious elf was an incredibly sexy one and Rinn whimpered in silent despair, bemoaning the fact that she shared her inner voice's perverse tastes.

"Aerindis, did you just tell me that you are married?"

She doubted that he could have sounded more disgusted if he had caught her erecting statues of Talos in every corner of Markarth. In fact, she was quite sure that he might have found that less distasteful than her Sanguine-induced marriage. Every instinct that she possessed screamed at her not to answer. Unfortunately, the other side of Rinn, the side that induced her to steal not just the Elenwen's files on the Blades and Ulfric but every septim, potion and even a Stone of Barenziah from Elenwen's own bedside while she had triumphantly evaded the Thalmor Embassy guards, the same side that had caused Brynjolf to almost get a heart attack when she had spontaneously roared out a Thu'um before throwing her ethereal form off a short but steep cliff just to see if she could, that side egged her on and she blinked again, almost helpless to stop her mouth from opening and giving an answer that she was sure to further ignite Ondolemar's apparent fury.

"It's true. The wedding was just last month—" She squeaked as a flash of gold streaked past the corner of her eye, and flashed like fire through the air as Ondolemar hurled the elven dagger against the room. The resounding clatter sounded like thunder in the tense silence of the room.

"Don't lie to me!" he growled. "If you think that will make me spare you—" He sunk a gloved hand into her dark hair and Rinn shivered when she felt his leather-clad fingertips brush her scalp as he gathered a fistful of locks at her nape and tugged sharply.

"I have the ring to prove it," she yelped, wondering vaguely just how many more hairs she was going to lose this evening. He lifted an immaculately groomed brow at her, a somewhat mocking expression replacing the anger on his face for the moment. "I do," Rinn insisted hotly, glaring back at him. Nice Altmer or not, when Ondolemar wanted to play the arrogant Thalmor, he could be as haughtily condescending as the best of them—and that meant Elenwen. Not even Mercer in his finest arrogant 'No Debates No Discussions You Do What We Say When We Say' bastard mode could quite match the gold-skinned Mer.

'Well, that's not all he failed to match them in. Although I'll confess nobody does scruffy and unkempt quite the way Mercer does,' her inner voice suddenly quipped.

'By the Daedric Princes, did you seriously just say that?' Rinn howled silently at the retreating figure of her inner voice. 'Did you just confess to ogling Mercer 'Let me stab you in the gut' Frey?!'

'Well, that was before Snow Veil Sanctum! And shouldn't you pay attention to what Ondolemar is doing?'

That successfully diverted Rinn's attention in time for her to realise that the elf had lifted her left hand and was eyeing it with amusement. "I think you and I both know that you are not in possession of any such ring," he said smoothly and Rinn tried not to pay attention to the fact that he was running his thumb over the base of her ring finger. Weakly, she tried to tug her hand free; he tightened his grasp on her wrist. Then, before she could stop him, he leaned forward and, without taking his eyes from hers, parted his lips as he sucked the tip of her slender digit into his mouth.

Her heart jumped so hard it slammed into her ribs before sinking down into the rapidly melting recesses of her belly. 'Oh my gods,' Rinn thought faintly as all the strength left her arm and possibly the rest of her body. Not that Ondolemar cared; he was preoccupied with sliding more of her finger along the wet heat of his tongue and Rinn felt each flick and stroke right down to the southernmost region of her body where she was sure her smalls had disintegrated to ash, or possibly just vanished out of existence like those strange Psijic sorcerers who made it a habit of popping in and out of her life to order her on various quests. 'I have to stop him.'

'Tell him you married a woman,' her inner voice piped up slyly. "You don't really like men."

"I married a woman," Rinn blurted out before she could contemplate the wisdom of listening to her inner voice whose only goal in life was to bed Ondolemar, never mind that a rapacious ancient dragon-god was flying across the land and resurrecting an army of dragons to help him destroy all of existence. To quote Rinn's inner voice, she never sweated the small stuff.

Teeth scored delicate flesh and Rinn cried out. "It's true! She's quite beautiful." That was an awful lie. Even a dragon would be a finer looking specimen than that Hagraven. Sithis and the bloody Void, even other Hagravens she had slaughtered were better looking than that Hagraven. The look of devotion in the bird-hag's eyes still made chills run down her spine. She had not been able to bring herself to do more than stun the creature with a blow to the head before ripping the ring from her hand and running off into the rocky, steam-filled wilderness. Rinn hoped the grimace on her face would be passed off as pain as Ondolemar ruthlessly nipped at her again.

When he finally released her finger, it felt as though there were no bones left in her body. Rinn made a valiant effort to topple Ondolemar off but he had his legs pressed firmly against her sides and she ground her teeth in thwarted frustration as he shook his head knowingly at her. "I suppose your sudden liking for women is the reason why you almost kissed me after I saved your life," he purred and she wanted to smack his face.

'That's not the best starting point. I would suggest beginning with his posterior—'

Her inner voice was like Barbas; it was loud, pushy and got in her way at the most inconvenient moments. And like Barbas, she was just going to grit her teeth and ignore it. She had a drugged and horny elf to take to be—to take care of.

"I did not almost kiss you. You grabbed me in an embrace I did not solicit and you were the one who almost lost control," she snapped back.

"I see. So that explains why you were clinging to me like a barnacle to a ship's hull and the look of profound disappointment on your face when I did not kiss you, as you were so obviously trying to get me to do."

Had he just likened her to those little pests that sailors spent hours scraping off the bottom of their ships? Rinn snatched her hand back. "Well, if I looked disappointed I didn't stay disappointed for long. I'm Thieves Guild, right? And if there's one thing the men in that Guild are well-known for, it's their nimble fingers and clever tongues and I can certainly vouch for that—"

Perhaps if Rinn had known exactly what Angeline Morrard had put inside the sex potion or the effects of consuming a fragment of the Lover Stone, she might have been more forgiving and a lot more cautious. With his inhibitions badly frayed to the point of nonexistence, his five senses heightened to the point of almost painful sensitivity and his every nerve sparking like wildfire because of her scent, her taste, her body beneath his, and a powerful ancient enchantment coursing through his veins that demanded he bed this woman who had snuck her way into his heart and refused all attempts at eviction, Ondolemar snapped.

Rinn barely had time to contemplate her mistake when he hauled her up and off the ground with a savage growl. Instinct surged to life with a vengeance and although her arms were practically immobilised, her legs were free. Lifting them, she kicked straight out, both feet together and buried her heels in his gut. The tough Nightingale boots punched through the protective layers of his Thalmor robes and Ondolemar dropped her as he doubled over. Rough cold stone scratched her hands as Rinn twisted in mid-air, landed on all fours and scrambled up to make a wild dash for the door.

She was in the process of hauling it open when she heard a sizzling crackle fill the room. "Oh shit—"

That was the furthest she got. The force of the spell was strong enough to throw her forward against the door and she was caught in the midst of a blindingly bright glow that suffused her body and made her squeeze her eyes shut in spite of herself. Then, the light disappeared and at that moment, Rinn knew exactly what spell Ondolemar had cast on her.

She had never found a book to learn it, or found the time at the College of Winterhold to get someone to teach it to her. But she had heard about the Paralyze spell and how useful it could be for the wielder and how particularly nasty it could be for the victim. A strangled cry of alarm, more like a whisper really, escaped her lips as the magic siphoned the very strength from her bones and Rinn crumpled to the ground like deadweight. She might have been hurt, if not for the arms that caught her just before she hit the stone floor but she could hardly be expected to show her captor gratitude. No matter how hard she tried, she could do nothing more than just watch as he kicked the door shut. Then, he withdrew a key from a hidden pocket in his robes, one that she had refrained from ever picking—a fact that she was now cursing herself for, apart from cursing him—and proceeded to lock the door before scooping her up in his arms.

"Ondolemar," she whispered, struggling to get her tongue to shape his name and her lips to part. The effort to carry out that previously simple task rendered her nearly breathless. What finally knocked the remaining air from her lungs was the realisation that he was carrying her towards the stone bed.

"I would strongly advise that you shut up, Rinn," he hissed, the gentleness with which he laid her out on the bed forming a strange contrast with his angry words and voice. "You are, after all, going to need whatever strength you have left."

She almost choked when he kissed her, crushing his mouth to hers as he roughly cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb against her chin so that her lips parted from him. Rinn could never be sure but she thought she heard herself moan as his tongue swept in and mated with hers, stroking and rubbing, pressing so intimately that the heated tremor which flared up over her heart and streaked right down to her toes would have curled them, if not for the spell. She could taste something else on his tongue, faintly musky and sweet, and knew it was the remnants of the blasted potion she had fed him.

He bit her lips, ran his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting left by his teeth. Rinn's sigh feathered his mouth when he finally ended the kiss and for a moment, she could have sworn his lips lifted in the barest of smiles. "When you return to your Guild, I guarantee that you will have something else to vouch for."

That was when she heard the sharp click of the first of her buckles being undone. The blood rushed from her face before it returned in a burning blush that she knew had turned the fair tips of her ears red as well.

Dear gods, he was stripping her.


End file.
